


happy endings

by waved



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: M/M, Self-Harm, ambiguously canon era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7630792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waved/pseuds/waved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He let Hanschen devour him and his life, turn him inside out and destroy him like he was a <em>plaything.</em> So who was he without the one who owned him?<br/>Up in his vineyard with his bleeding arms and burning coat, Ernst allows himself to be absolutely nothing at all.</p><p> </p><p>written for "favorite sa ship + a happy ending" (this is not that)</p>
            </blockquote>





	happy endings

**Author's Note:**

> more sa because i suck!!  
> EDIT: IM SO SORRY to the people i may have upset by not having a self harm warning!! it completely slipped my mind and im so sorry for that

Happy endings, Ernst thinks, are bullshit.

There are burns on his fingertips from licking flames on matches left to burn. Black smudges his knees and palms and his last clean uniform (his mama will be _so happy_ to wash it for him), and the pile of letters that used to be is nothing but a pile of ash. _Bullshit_ , his mind reiterates, and he gives a long, self-suffering sigh – this was what he signed up for, right? Some late night trysts in a fucking vineyard (dirt on his knees and hands and soul) and kisses stolen at school, at home (kisses that felt like fire, kisses from a boy who _consumed_ him). Nothing that was supposed to indicate longevity or even faithfulness between them.

So – why did it hurt so much?

Hanschen Rilow is a boy who can get whatever he wants, and somehow Ernst let himself believe he was special. _Special_ in the eyes of Hanschen is a tough title, and Ernst thought he rightfully achieved it. Hell, Ernst thought Hanschen was in _love_ with him, but Hanschen is simply an exceptionally good actor.

Well – that isn’t important to him, not now. Ernst lights another match just for the hell of it, and watches with morbid curiosity as the flame sinks lower on the skinny stick, until it is nothing but ash in his palm and a throbbing pain in his fingers.

So he lights another match and presses the heat into his palm.

He lights another match.

He lights another match.

Blood begins to drip into the ash.

He lights another match.

* * *

 

He attempts to explain his gnarled, bloody hands to his mama but she just gives him a sad and weary look before telling him to sit so she can wrap them up.

* * *

 

Later that night, Ernst finds one of Hanschen’s jackets poking out from underneath his bed. He sits with it for a moment (a moment where he allows himself to reminisce), even going so far as to breath in that aching, familiar smell before heaving himself out of bed.

He is barefoot and in pyjamas, but Hanschen’s jacket is tucked under one arm while three books of matches are clutched tightly in his opposite hand, and that’s all he needs.

The fabric of Hanschen’s jacket curls into itself as it burns, like it’s trying to hide, repent for its sins as if _Ernst_ is free of them. But Ernst is equally as guilty. He rolls up his sleeves and works with his matches, coexisting peacefully with the acrid smell of burnt ~~flesh~~ fabric and the ashes that have once again stuck on him and made him nothing more than a human smudge. And really, what else is he than a smudge? He let Hanschen devour him and his life, turn him inside out and destroy him like he was a _plaything_. So who was he without the one who owned him?

Up in his vineyard with his bleeding arms and burning coat, Ernst allows himself to be absolutely nothing at all.

* * *

He is still awake to see the burning edge of the sunrise.

 

 

 

 

It seems as if Hanschen has similar ideas of watching the sky. Ernst’s little hill does have a good view.

There is silence.

Consuming, aching silence.

Ernst’s fire goes out and he leaves his ashes behind.

* * *

 

 _Pitiable_ is how Ernst feels the next time he finds himself at his vineyard. His Sunday best is only his school uniform, so there he is, getting dirt on it once again. His legs are stocking-free and his toes dig into the dirt gladly. Still, there is that awful, lingering sense of – wanting, maybe. This is the place that was _his and Hanschen’s_ , like they were a sticky mess of each other and only each other. Caught in themselves.

He wonders when _Ernst_ and _Hanschen_ became _ErnstandHanschen_ , and then he wonders why he never bothered to disconnect the two after—

He can see the trail from his spot underneath his big oak. He can see the trail and on the trail is Hanschen. Hanschen is on the trail and Hanschen is barefoot and Hanschen is coming to _Ernst’s_ vineyard and _Ernst’s_ oak, and Ernst violently remembers the sunrise where Hanschen came and joined him, with no words and no apologies, only an air of bitter and _sad_. When Hanschen sits, he fights the urge to choke (or perhaps kiss) and instead settles for forcing his throat to clear.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, simply because he doesn’t know what else to say. What _is_ there to say? _I still love you Hanschen_ or _I don’t understand why you left me why won’t you explain_ or _I need you back Hanschen please_. He could say all sorts of pathetic litanies, say Grace and confess his sins and _beg_ , but there’s nothing.

“I missed this place.” Hanschen answers, and the dam breaks.

“Why did you _leave?_ ” Ernst says and he _does_ choke, feels the unevenness of his voice as he implores. He moves up so his weight is on his palms (the dirt digs in) and he turns to face Hanschen, who seems to pointedly ignore him. “Hanschen, please. I thought we were – no, _I_ was. I thought _you_ were happy, I thought you – enjoyed this, enjoyed _us_ , what the Hell happened?”

Hanschen gives a wry smile. “Good things end, Ernst. I only saw our end and cut it off before I could let you be hurt.”

“ _Let—_ ”

“Listen, Ernst, I know. I know,” He puts on an insulting voice. “ _It’s unfair, Hansi, we were in **love**_ —”

Ernst punches Hanschen in the shoulder as hard as he can manage as tears burn his eyes.

“ _I was_. I was in love, you _fuck_ , I was in love with you and you – you toss it all away for me with not a discussion, a compromise, _nothing_ , and you try to tell me this was for _my sake?_ ”

A bitter laugh rips from Ernst as he paws at his eyes.

“Pathetic of me, truly. To assume you had half a heart to let me love you.”

And without any warning, Hanschen grabs his jaw and pulls him in for a searing kiss, which Ernst gives into way too fast and drinks in like it’s the last kiss he’ll get. The feeling Hanschen ignites in him is familiar and painful. God, he really does love him. This mess of a boy who only toyed with him – Ernst loves him wholly and deeply and irrevocably. He loves him _pathetically_. He crawls into Hanschen’s lap and kisses back with vigor.

Hanschen pulls back and there is silence, before he leans in again and rests his forehead upon Ernst’s shoulder.

“I was, too,” is all he says and Ernst does not need clarification. It is as much as a confession and apology as he will get. They stay tangled in each other until it darkens, and even then, Ernst only holds Hanschen tighter. Maybe there is hope for them in this world.

Looking into the spun gold of Hanschen’s hair, Ernst lets himself believe in faerie tales and happy endings just a little while longer.


End file.
